Big Thoughts – Page 72 – Wilder, Wealthy, and Wise

Roman Virtues and Western Civilization, Complete with Monty Python

“Romanes Eunt Domus? People called Romans they go the house?” – Life of Brian

Okay, you could argue that the last R should be a W. But I need all the exposure I can get.

“Delenda est Carthago.”

Cato the Elder was a Roman Senator during the time of the Roman Republic. Every time Cato spoke in the Senate he ended his speech with that phrase (or some variant, I don’t want to get into an ancient Latin grammar slapfight). Translated, Cato meant: “Carthage must be destroyed.” Since I knew that fact when I was in high school also directly led to the loss of my virginity (really), but that’s a much longer story for another day . . . .

“Romans go home . . . “

The Punic (yes, that’s spelled right) Wars were the wars that Rome fought against Carthage. In the First Punic War, (264-241 B.C.) there were 400,000 or so Carthaginians killed to 350,000 Romans. The Second Punic War (218-201 B.C.) is the one most people know about, where Hannibal (a Carthaginian) took his elephants through the Alps to sneak into Rome via the back door. Sneaking with elephants is quite an accomplishment, and Hannibal roamed around Italy, destroying over 400 towns before he (and Carthage) were defeated again. The Romans lost 300,000 dead, but the Roman general Scipio Africanus finally defeated Hannibal when he was forced to withdraw to Carthaginian territory after years spent ravaging Italy.

Is it just me, or could they have made it easier for the ten guys rowing if they got off the elephant?

It was after this war that Cato just wouldn’t stop talking about Carthage. Eventually, he got his way and the Romans made an excuse and started the Third (and final) Punic War. When the war was over, Carthage had been destroyed – and not destroyed just a little, but destroyed – the Romans burned the town for 17 days. The few people that survived were sold into slavery. Salt was plowed into the ground at the site of the city so that nothing would ever grow there again. Despite all of this, they still couldn’t manage to cancel their FaceBook© account or get rid of their tracking cookies.

Part of me thinks that the Carthaginians just pissed the Romans off, even more than trade or greed would account for. It’s now certain that Carthaginians burned their children alive as sacrifices to Baal. Yes. Alive. And the ritual required that the child be awake. Oh, one other goodie – you couldn’t just adopt a local urchin and toss that one in the fire. Nope, that just brought bad luck. It had to be your kid. Your favorite child.

This was thought at one time to have been Roman propaganda, but it turns out to have been utterly true. The Carthaginians were evil on a biblical level. Everything about their religion and public life was against the Roman ideals of virtue, and Roman virtue was a big deal. In Rome, virtue acted hand in hand with two other pillars: the law and religion. Each of them were a leg that helped make Roman society stable enough to last and thrive for hundreds of years, until they discovered Netflix®.

Roman law and Roman virtue are foundational to all of Western Civilization. What were the Roman virtues? This list is based on the Wikipedia entry:

Fides – the root for fidelity, and really covered by the word faithfulness, to gods, country, and family. You’ll see that trio again.
Pietas – respect to gods, country, and family. Told ya.
Regilio – following traditional religious practices.
Disciplina – this one is pretty straightforward.
Gravitas/Constantia – dignified self-control and perseverance.
Virtus – ideal male values, knowing good from evil, shame from dishonor, pilsner from bock.

The end goal was Dignitas and Auctoritas. Dignitas was a reputation for worth, along with the honor and esteem it brought. Auctoritas was the prestige and respect that came from being virtuous, along with one of those cool leafy hats.

If you did a bad thing in Senate they made you sit in time-out.

This threesome – law, religion and virtue was what made Rome great. Rome was a culture where these things were held by all to be of value – old Roman politicians would try to ruin their competitors just by destroying their reputations. Roman youth all the way up to Julius Caesar tried to prove their worth on the field of battle to show that virtue. From The Notebooks of Lazarus Long:

“No state has an inherent right to survive through conscript troops and, in the long run, no state ever has. Roman matrons used to say to their sons: “Come back with your shield, or on it.” Later on, this custom declined. So did Rome.”

I’m worried that our standard of public discourse has now become “If it’s not against the law, it’s virtuous and must be celebrated.” Public life in the past (before my time, certainly) was different. The law was one leg, but a person’s virtue was also important. Prior for a mortgage to be issued, it wasn’t uncommon for the bank to see if a person was a faithful churchgoer. In public, if you were misbehaving in a grocery store, any lady would have felt free to tell you to get your behavior in line. I can recall buying a comic book when I was 10 and taking crap from the clerk (who knew my mom) about biting my fingernails.

How has life changed in 120 years?

In 1900, your only contact (on an average day) with anything related to the Federal government was limited to the cash in your pocket (which was backed by gold) and the Post Office. And that’s it for almost every day.

In 2019, you wake up with EPA electricity running an alarm clock that pulls in FCC-sanctioned FM radio, and turn on light bulbs that are of a government-mandated type. You brush your teeth with FDA approved toothpaste and shower with water that’s also regulated by the EPA. We won’t cover the trade agreements that cover your coffee. Or the DOT and FHWA road that you drive on. And we’re not even to 8AM yet.

That’s just the Federal government. Has life gotten better since intact families (including real, actual fathers) declined in popularity? Since the number of sex partners is up? Is FaceBook® really better than getting together to play cards and catch up? The Romans largely got it right. They brought together virtue and tied it to law and created stability.

Or is it Baltimore?

Beyond that, the Roman ideas of virtue are familiar to because they are the foundation of Western Civilization. Other things that provide a basis:

You don’t have to be a Christian. You don’t even have to believe in any god of any type. But the values that flow from Christianity are fundamentally compatible with the Roman virtues and have produced the society where we still (more or less) trust each other.
Q. It’s important. Different countries have different I.Q.’s and economic output is tied to I.Q. Also tied to I.Q.? The ability to self-govern.
History/European Culture. History, good and bad, is important. I read that on a poster somewhere.
I read about a researcher who looked into British genealogy. He found that almost every person of British descent was descended from a majority of royalty/upper class. What happened to the poor? They didn’t have kids, didn’t reproduce. I’d bet that was repeated all over Europe for hundreds of years. Not only have we created Western Civilization, Western Civilization has created us.

When you reflect on the virtues of the Romans of the Republic and the ideals that they aspired to, I’m sure 200 years later in the days of the Roman Empire they were viewed as antiquated. Virtue was silly. “Do what thou wilt,” became the plan, but from time to time you gotta burn some kids.

Thank heavens we’re still a society that values virtue, religion and the law!

Books, Stoics, Immortality (Now Available on Stick)

“I am Connor MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. I was born in 1518 in the village of Glenfinnan on the shores of Loch Shiel. And I am immortal.” – Highlander

Or maybe it was the scotch that made him immortal? When I drink scotch I’m bulletproof.

I once had a Grandboss (my boss’s boss) that once said, “Reading is the only way that you can know great minds across centuries.” He was deeply philosophical and attempted to use that philosophy to improve business results, and also to use history as analogy for business conditions. Prior to the movie 300 coming out, he was discussing the battle of Thermopylae and the courage of the Spartans to fight to the last man as a business analogy. Needless to say, when you’re using a battle where every single solder dies as an analogy, business isn’t going all that well.

Grandboss also assigned On War (a treatise on war and strategy during the Napoleonic era) by Von Clausewitz for us to read. I’m probably the only guy who actually did read it, and still have my copy. Needless to say, I loved my Grandboss, and still send him cards on Grandboss day. When I quit that job to take a new one, I told him first, and as a goodbye present? I gave him a book.

My Grandboss was right, though – reading allows us to know great minds across centuries. The nice thing is we can read the thoughts of dead Greeks like Epictetus. Epictetus spent his entire life studying and living stoic philosophy, which was a pretty hard thing to do when you were a slave with a gimpy leg. Epictetus eventually became free – we don’t know how, but I imagine he won the annual caddy’s golf tournament and got a scholarship from Judge Smails.

I bet Epictetus just wishes he wrote, “You’ll get nothing and like it.”

One thing we do know is that Epictetus did was spend a lot of time thinking about virtue and vice. We’ll spend more time on virtue on Monday’s post, but Epictetus came to the conclusion that the following things were neither vice nor virtue:

Wealth
Health
Life
Death
Pleasure
Pain

As wealth and health are at least two nominal themes of this blog (this is Friday, so I’m stretching it and saying this is a health post) it might seem a bit hypocritical that I spend time talking about health and wealth and then quote a dead lame Greek that says that neither of those are virtuous. But I would argue that my message on wealth is that true wealth is in having few needs (Seneca, Stoics, Money and You), and although I prefer pleasure to pain, I recognize that a pleasure repeated too often is a punishment (Pleasure, Stoicism, Blade Runner, VALIS and Philip K. Dick). And we also know that health is more controllable by our choices today than Epictetus did.

Immortal and omnipotent. And good on the mariachi trumpet.

Heck, I even got challenged by an Orthodox priest friend on whether or not learning for learning’s sake was, in a religious context, a vice. If so, there goes most of my Monday posts. The priest and I (as I recall, over a BBQ lunch) came to the conclusion that learning for learning’s sake was maybe a vice. Since he was also a fan of learning for learning’s sake, if it was a vice we were both guilty.

Going back to Epictetus’ list, Life and Death are on it as being neither virtues nor vices. I’m not sure about you, but I really prefer Wealth to Poverty, Health to Illness, and Life to Death. Epictetus felt the same way – it was okay to have preferences with the understanding that neither condition is, in itself, virtuous. I finally came to understand that while not virtuous, death is required for life. Oddly, I thank Bill Clinton for this realization.

It was during the Clinton presidency that I first looked around at the national leaders for both parties and thought, “Jeez, what a bunch of bozos.” Both sides were stupid or corrupt. Some were stupid and corrupt at the same time (looking at you, ghost of Ted Kennedy, I’ve imagined you’ve been plenty warm this winter). Back then I was a capital-L libertarian, and could see that both sides had as primary goals the restriction of freedom on their agenda in addition to being incompetent.

Beyond that, they were . . . awful. Spineless. They were tools of groups with different names but the same objectives – objectives that mostly didn’t favor you or me. Throw into this mix that one day at lunch I was thinking about immortality and the implications of living forever, which was spurred on by eating a tuna fish sandwich which might have been as old as Epictetus, who died in 135 A.D.

Elvis will never die. Mobility? That might be an issue.

If people were generally immortal? Our birthrate would plummet – 200 year old women have very few kids. As for me, I’d have plenty of time so rather than putting things off until next week, I’d put stuff off until next century. But the worst consequence?

Bill Clinton would forever be an elder statesman, always trying to increase his (and Hillary’s) power for all of eternity. Our current batch of elected officials would be about the best we’d get, or maybe the only ones we’d get. Senators and congresscritters already stay in office until the only way to keep them alive is though that experimental technique that turns them into zombie-like creatures that feast on living human flesh like Nancy Pelosi, or immortal robots like the Ruth Bader-Ginsbot™ 3000.

Thankfully, we live in a world where things die and the world moves on – just like a cell in a human body ceases to exist so new cells can take over. We have a name for immortal cells – cancer. Just like cells pass away, so do we to leave this world to the youth. I didn’t say death is “good” – just that it serves a purpose.

Okay, this is one boy who loved his mother.

Part of that purpose is focusing us on the here and now: in this way we don’t lose sight that life is precious and fleeting, like sedation dentistry. Perhaps the most precious thing we have is the shared time with those who have meaning to us (like your friendly blogger). But for those who have left us, honor them with the virtue that they helped you obtain. Be glad you had a part of their life, and had a chance to witness their virtue and learn from their vices. Look at how they have changed you, made you better so that they live on through their influence on you.

Lastly, for heaven’s sake, write something down. It’s the only way that someone can know your mind when you’re gone, unless they check your browser history.

Limits to Growth and Exponential Feminists

“Look, man, do I look like an ichthyologist to you? Big damn bugs, all right? The size of my fist. The size of a peanut butter and banana sandwich. What do I know? I got a growth. . . .” – Bubba Ho Tep

Zombies or Mad Max®.

When my older brother, also (really) named John Wilder, (my parents didn’t want to have to call two names when they called us for dinner) came back from college one year, he brought back a large number of textbooks. Most of the books were exceedingly dull, written by exceedingly dull college professors about business. I’m not sure what a college professor would know about business, since if they were any good at business they’d have one, not teach it. Honestly, I have no idea why you’d want to get a college degree in “business” at all, unless it was because you like spending $20,000 a year to drink beer and go rock climbing with college girls wearing skimpy outfits . . .

Oh, that’s why you get a degree in business and take six years to get it. Never mind.

But one of my brother’s textbooks caught my eye, a copy of Limits to Growth. It was a dog-eared paperback with a bright yellow sticker on matte black background proclaiming it, “USED.” Knowing my brother’s interest in subjects like economics and the fate of society, the only way that particular textbook was USED was as a doorstop or beer coaster. I’m surprised that Limits to Growth was being used as a textbook, since my brother was going to school at a community college on a competitive mixed doubles checkers scholarship, and actually teaching something to a student athlete at a community college can cause the college to lose its accreditation, I’ve been told.

Limits to Growth was a book based on a computer model back when a 2006 Blackberry® had ten times as much computing power as a the computer they used. The study came out in 1972, when, for whatever reason, the entire world mood started to get gloomy. Here is a book cover from a novel published that same year:

Yes, Ma Wilder bought this for me (at my insistence) when I was about 12. It was a little gloomier than Harry Potter® or Captain Underpants™.

This particular computer model used by the authors was one that purported to take a bunch of inputs and determine future economic growth and population. Because computers are magic, I guess.

Spoiler alert! The results were not good.

Well, this is one solution for overpopulation . . .

You can fiddle with the model yourself over here (LINK). I played with it a few times and, like an amateur knitter gladiating against Spartacus at the Coliseum™ on Ladies Night (two for one Buffalo wings!) I kept losing. I guess my inability to make the computer model turn out well means billions of you are going to have to die and civilization will collapse. Sorry. Bright side? Buffalo wings.

The one fault I have with the model is that most of the “solutions” that drive longer human civilization timelines or stability involve state control and a general shared misery of technological standstill. Oh, and almost all of the solutions had to be implemented back in 1972 for them to be useful.

The cure was to stop economic progress, to live in a world that’s much like Cuba – stuck in the 1950’s with oppressive government limiting actions of individuals, up to and including mandatory beards and licensing of new children. I say “was” because, in the terms of the authors of the original study, it’s too late now to avoid a population growing beyond the capacity of the Earth to provide for it (overshoot) which inevitably leads to a collapse in population.

Normally I am skeptical of model runs. Reality has a way of pointing out all of the things we really don’t know when we place too much faith in models. And yet . . . exponential growth is, well, exponential. Let me illustrate with a story you’ve probably heard before:

You can smell the cats through the computer monitor.

If your town has angry feminists with unnaturally-colored hair in it, and they double in number every day, and you know on day 30 that the town will be overrun with feminists, how many much of the town will be overrun on day 29?

Half. I won’t mansplain that. But on day 28, only a quarter of the town will smell like cat-loving harpy. On day 27, only 12.5%.

Oops. I guess I mansplained that. But the human brain is not wired out of the box to understand exponentials. Thousands of years have taught us that people don’t double in height during a day, that the number of villagers don’t double in a month. But after we study it long enough, we realize the power of exponential growth. If the number of pageviews on this blog increased like they did on a consistent basis, by the year 2026 I’ll have almost 22 billion pageviews a day. Heck, some blogs go a whole year and don’t get that many pageviews.

Okay, that really won’t happen. I’d be lucky to have everyone on Earth visit just once a day.

We’ve been stuck with the exponential growth of humanity. Al Bartlett (R.I.P.) was a professor of physics at the University of Colorado who lectured a lot about exponential growth. His website remains up here (LINK). His conclusion is that, given finite resources, infinite growth isn’t possible. A guy named Thomas Malthus came to that same conclusion in 1798, but his website was on Myspace® and is down now.

Malthus has been for now, wrong, with respect to Western Civilization. Technological progress has increased the carrying capacity of Earth and (generally) increased the standard of living of the vast majority when compared to 1798. At least for now. As we look at civilizations in the past, from the Romans to the Mayans to Easter Island (and others), all collapsed due to unchecked growth.

So, maybe Bartlett, Malthus, and the Club of Rome will win in the end. But until then, I guess 20 year olds will spend six years getting business degrees for the beer and the babes. Might as well enjoy the decline . . . .

Beer, Nuclear Bikinis, and Agriculture: What Made Us Who We Are

“A living nuclear weapon destined to walk the Earth forever. Indestructible. A victim of the modern nuclear age.” – Godzilla 1985

Ahh, sexy nuclear power.

I was at a job I had (while we lived in Houston) and I was getting coffee. One safety tip: the most dangerous place in the world is being between Ocasio-Cortez and a camera. The second most dangerous place in the world is being between me and the office coffee pot. On this particular day a gentleman who worked for a parallel department to mine was also at the coffee bar. We exchanged the ritual office grunting. “Ugh, John hate Mondays.” “Ugh, me hate Mondays too.” As I waited for my coffee to brew, he asked me this question:

“John Wilder, what do you think the most important invention in human history was?”

I thought about it. I didn’t have a ready answer, but this popped into my head. “Besides the bikini, I’d have to go with agriculture.” Who doesn’t love swimwear named after nuclear bomb testing?

See, told you nuclear power was sexy.

He was a little surprised. I think he expected me to say “stapler” or “strapless gown” or some other word starting with “s”, but, no, agriculture was my answer. And upon several years’ worth of reflection, do I stand by that answer? Yes.

Why?

Agriculture has remade our culture. Prior to agriculture, there was no real reason to stay in one location. In fact, if you hunted out an area, it would make sense to move to an area that hadn’t been hunted out – that would have been pressure for them to be nomadic and move periodically. A nomadic people has a limit to the amount of stuff they can have – they have to be able to carry it (or, if they’re a girl, convince the guys to carry it – fur bikinis were useful for that) to the next place they’ll make camp.

Okay, I’d carry her stuff.

Obviously, this lack of stuff limits the ability to create a technological society, and the nomadic lifestyle also makes it difficult for Amazon to deliver the hand-crank margarita maker you ordered since you don’t have an address. Why build a house, or a village? You’re just going to be leaving it to follow the critters you’re hunting. Certainly there were artifacts that were made before agriculture – Göbekli Tepe in modern-day Turkey was built before agriculture, starting at around 10,000 B.C., or about the same time your mom was learning to drive.

But nomadic tribes stayed small – limited by Dunbar’s number – this post is from when I wrote about it last year (Mental Illness, Dunbar’s Number, and the Divine Right of Kings):

Dunbar looked at primate group brain sizes, and compared to the size of the neocortex to the size of the primate “group” or tribe. After running the math, he predicted that humans should have a group size of around 150 – it’s related to the size of working memory that you have about other people. The commonly accepted maximum stable group size (average) is 100-250, which explains why I need to have my children program the streaming box hooked up to my television – my working memory is full of details like the shoe preferences of the administrative assistant at work from six jobs ago.

Göbekli Tepe – these people knew how to rock.

Now that doesn’t mean that Göbekli Tepe is proof that villages didn’t occur – Neanderthal habitations have been found even farther back in time, but those were probably seasonal as they followed the game. Göbekli Tepe was probably a ceremonial location where those people who collect ceramic figurines of frogs met for the annual ceramic frog convention, though this is just my speculation. But what isn’t speculation is that villages and settlements didn’t really exist until agriculture started, also around 10,000 B.C.

Perhaps the high point of Western Civilization?

And at that point everything changes. Archeological evidence indicates that hunter-gatherers worked just a fraction of the time (less than 20 hours per week) that the farmers worked after agriculture was invented. The hunter-gatherers spent time doing things that we think of as “fun” today – men take time off from work to hunt or fish. Women take time off to go and shop – modern-day gathering.

So why on earth did we stop doing things we’d been bred to find fun? We stopped hunting and gathering to trade for long hours of backbreaking farm labor in crowded villages that could allow violence, disease, and theft. My best guess that those hellish villages provided enough technological sophistication to provide constant streams of beer for the guys and red high-heeled shoes and makeup for the women. Oh, and the villages allowed for another unique feature: slavery. If you had an army (which you could now) you could go and take men, women, and crops from other villages. You could eat their food, and then make them plant more for you. And then you could make more beer.

But the transition from hunter-gatherer to farmer is possibly enshrined in the Bible book of Genesis, in the story of Cain and Abel, where Cain the farmer, killed Abel the shepherd. The farmer killed the hunter-gatherer, which is what eventually happened within all of society.

Hey, bro, want to be a metaphor?

This change also impacted the genetics of humanity. As divisions of labor were made possible by the villages, genes for hunters were less in demand (except for soldiers) and genes for farmers were in demand. Artisans making pottery and accountants and tax collectors were now needed. The breeding for people changed: for the first time ever, people need to read, to do math. From my observation, it seems like math and reading are innate in many of the children I’ve worked with. The concepts are already within them.

That would indicate a pretty successful breeding program. Too dumb to read? No kids for you. Can’t add two plus two? Enjoy being the last of your family line.

In this way, man made civilization, and civilization changed man. If 10,000 B.C. man took a stroll in Central Park, Manhattan in modern clothes, he’d be indistinguishable physically from a modern man, if you could ignore the raw goose he was gnawing on. But mentally? He’d be incapable of living in a modern city. It’s probably he could never learn to do math, even rudimentary math. Reading would likely be possible only at the lowest levels, things like true crime books.

But he’d be a sucker for beer. And nuclear fur bikinis.

Göbekli Tepe photo by Zhengan [CC BY-SA 4.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0)]

“That which you desire, controls you.”

“Egon, somehow this reminds me of the time you tried to drill a hole in your head. Do you remember that?” – Ghostbusters

See, a bottle of wine costs $15. Plus the crap I buy on Amazon.

That which you desire, controls you.

Let’s look at common examples:

Money
Power
Respect
Sex
Great Parking Spaces at Denny’s
Friendship
Water in the Sahara Desert
“Buy One Get One Free” Coupons for Chocolate Dipped Ice Cream Cones at Dairy Queen®
Booze
Glittery Sunglasses in the Shape of Stars

Can’t you feel their magnetic pull?

When we see these desires, we see those who are driven by them and are instinctively repulsed. An example: when The Mrs. and I were newly married, we had an idea for a book – a humorous parody of the Clinton administration. Its title? An Intern’s Guide to the White House. I thought it was funny, and maybe we even still have a copy sitting around somewhere. If so, I’ll post it sometime – we got hooked up with a bad literary agent (we were young and stupid) and it never got published. But like George Washington jokes, that material is just a little out of date.

This is like a photo from the world’s most awkward prom.

But back when we were still optimistic the Intern’s Guide, The Mrs. and I were excited when the Starr Report (a report by the independent counsel looking into the Clintons) came out. We felt that it would make a perfect sequel to our Intern’s Guide. Heck, the working title for the sequel was The Starch Report.

Then I read the Starr Report. Ugh. What President Clinton did was . . . sad. You can forgive lots of things, but getting past disgust over behavior that was, by any standards, weak and pathetic is a pretty high bar. And it wasn’t the perjury that was the worst part – it was the complete lack of self-control. Just because a complete lack of self-control is legal doesn’t make it moral or desirable.

As you can see from President Clinton’s example, this lust wasn’t just a weakness, it was personally destructive to him. And some of our greatest fiction, Shakespeare’s Macbeth, for example, explores this same theme. I still recall when Macbeth, in the movie version, gets kicked off campus. Then he and his wacky friends form a paranormal investigating service, and save New York from Macduff, who is portrayed as the Stay-Puft® Marshmallow Man.

Ahh, Shakespeare at his best.

But history has shown time and time again how lust for sex or lust for power has led to the downfall of the powerful – like the time Weinstein put the moves on Napoleon and Napoleon outed him on Twitter® with the #NapoleonToo campaign. But in all seriousness – if Napoleon had been content with France? If Weinstein could be . . . not Weinstein? Napoleon could have gone down in history as an amazing leader and statesman. And Weinstein could have maintained his revered status in Hollywood.

In the end, greed makes you poor. Need makes you needy. And desire makes you a slave.

But you’re saying, “John Wilder, all of that seems kind of negative. What’s the solution, I mean besides joining your cult of the Nudist Beatnik Threesome?”

Outcome independence. The idea of outcome independence is that who you are doesn’t change based on the results, and, win or lose you realize that’s an okay outcome. Like Kipling wrote in his poem, If (LINK):

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster, and treat those two impostors just the same . . .

You are independent of the outcomes around you – your job, the last raise you got, all of it. That’s not outcome indifference. Not at all. Throw yourself into getting to an outcome that you’re passionate about. Outcome independence isn’t being without passion, because nothing worthwhile ever gets done without passion. Let me explain with an example:

I was nearly a freshman in high school, and was mildly infatuated with a girl in class. Back then, people had phone books, and had their names in the book.

I called her house. Her dad (a doctor) answered.

“Is Michelle in?”

“Michelle, it’s for you.”

Michelle: “Hello?”

John Wilder: “Hi Michelle, it’s John Wilder. Interested in going to go see a movie?”

Michelle: “I’m sorry – I’m busy that night.”

Seriously, I didn’t leave anything out of the conversation. I asked her to a movie, and she said she was busy. But I had never said when I wanted to take her to a movie or even what movie. Even freshman me understood that meant that there was no night, ever, when she’d say yes.

Even then I was amused. I really wanted to go out with her – I was not indifferent – she was pretty cute. But when the outcome was negative, I didn’t have the slightest bit of loss of self-worth. There were lots of girls out there.

But failure is a result, too. I prefer to win. Strongly. But winning doesn’t make me a better person, and it doesn’t make me more moral – look at all of the really horrible people that have been successful. I could name them, but they have lawyers. I learned my lesson with Gandhi.

Losses can be better than a win . . . sometimes:

What did you learn?
Are you stronger?
Would success have been bad for you?
Is this just a temporary loss that brings about a greater victory?
Can you lose gracefully?
Is the loss pointing you to a mistake you’re making that you need to correct?

The best victories are internal. I know when I hit “publish” on a post whether or not I liked the post, whether or not I hit a home run. I really want you to like it, too, but internally, I know when I enjoyed writing it, and am pleased with the results. I’m passionate about it, and when I know I’ve done a good job, it makes it hard to go to sleep. I’m excited.

And I get enjoyment out of failing, too. If you never failed, victory wouldn’t feel so good. But I’d still like some glittery star glasses.

What Hockey Taught Me About My Life and My Career (Bonus: Broadswords)

“This is hockey, OK? It’s not rocket surgery.” – Mystery, Alaska

“You da goalie, not Yoda® goalie.” I have to get my hearing checked.

When I was in middle school, one week we played hockey for P.E. Where I grew up it was certainly cold enough for water to freeze – but we didn’t have any water, it being nearly a desert and all. A typical backyard mud puddle in Midwestia is bigger than things we called “lakes” growing up, and you could wade across the local river at flood stage and not get your pants wet. We did, however, have a gym and roller skates.

A group of uncoordinated seventh graders attempting to roller skate on a gym floor for the first time probably looked like a gaggle of hippos juggling wet sheepdogs. I wouldn’t know exactly what we looked like, I was busy studying the wood grain of the floor by repeatedly falling onto the free throw line as my skates stubbornly refused to stay underneath me. The nearly frictionless wheels kept twisting my legs at angles only experienced by crash test dummies, Thanksgiving turkeys, and a stoned Elon Musk.

Why were we so pathetic?

The nearest roller rink was 30 miles away, and what passed for concrete in town was concrete in concept only, with the newest patches of sidewalk having been put down personally by President Roosevelt as he raced Hitler in a sidewalk building contest to determine who had to have Italy on their side. Anyway, what concrete existed in town was broken, jagged, and was used by NASA to simulate walking on the Moon because it was so rough and powdery. If we wanted to skate that left skating in actual dirt, because skating on the highway was illegal in every state in the nation until Virginia just recently legalized 30^th trimester abortions.

I got to be team captain, and no one really argued when I picked goalie as my position. In two teams of horrible skaters, I was the worst. Being goalie didn’t require much skating, just being quick and a lot of intentional falling. As I could fall unintentionally, intentional falling was even easier. The puck was a hollow plastic disk that weighed next to nothing, and I was quick enough to stop nearly every shot.

It didn’t hurt my goal-tending streak that this was the first time that any of us had ever played hockey and everyone was a horrible shot. I’m pretty sure that our P.E. instructor had only the vaguest idea of what the rules were since he informed us that in order to start the game we had to sacrifice the smallest and weakest player in the middle of the gym for the strength of the tribe while drinking Moosehead® beer. Since we were underage, he drank all our beers for us.

We’ll all miss Benji.

As I grew older, there was a period of a few years where I watched actual NHL® professional hockey, until they just stopped showing it on any network I could find. But watching hockey was different than watching other sports – in an average game the players are (at times) going 25-27 miles per hour, and the puck itself is often moving in excess of 100 miles per hour. In the NFL®, the top receivers run about 20 miles per hour for short bursts, but average much less.

Because of the increased speed in hockey, minor differences in starting position resulted in big separations between players as they accelerated across the ice. The importance of that separation is the same in all sports, but I really was able to see it when it came to hockey due to the faster speeds. What’s really important is time and space. With enough time and space, a hockey player can break away from the crowd and attack the goalie one on one. With enough time and space, players can be where the action will be five seconds from now.

The same principle holds in football. With enough time and space, a wide receiver can break away from the defense and score. I think it holds true in soccer as well, but too often the players are just sitting on the field knitting and drinking brightly colored cocktails with whimsical umbrellas and chunks of fruit before they go shoe shopping. I think soccer would be much more interesting if they gave the players broadswords with no real rules or guidance on how they are to be used in the game.

Now, imagine with swords. See? Better already.

But what happens in sports also happens in real life, minus my really cool broadsword idea. The analogy of time and space is incredibly important to people who are trapped on mountains as the storm comes in, or the logistics in supporting an army in the field, or even the position of the individual units in a battle. Put 5,000 men in the right place and the right time and almost any battle in history swaps winners. Heck, 300 Spartans (plus 700 Thespians) changed the course of history and saved Western Civilization. Tell me that Xerxes wouldn’t love to have that one back – lose to the Greeks just the one time and you never hear the end of it.

If only they had compromised, imagine how we’d remember them.

To “maximize” your financial potential, you should use your time and space to be where the action is. Sadly, for my career the right place is bigger cities – huge cities, with populations of millions of people. A bigger city would be okay, but from what I’ve seen of cities, most of those millions of people I won’t like. They just seem to be in the way when I try to drive on the congested roads. Broadswords would be helpful here, too. The city is filled with activities, though. Activities that I really don’t want to do – except for nice restaurants and museums, and getting to a big city four or five times a year is necessary, mainly to remind me of all the reasons why I don’t want to move back to a big city.

Thankfully, though, I don’t need to maximize my financial potential – the mortgage that I pay here in Modern Mayberry is less than 27% of the cost for an apartment in San Francisco, and on a per square foot basis? My cost is 5% (that’s not a misprint) of what I’d pay per square foot in ‘Frisco (the locals love it when you call it that, I hear). That 5% number just includes house square footage, and doesn’t include the 10 acres the house is on.

With life, time is still time, and space is still space. And during a career, money is space AND time. If you only have enough money for this month, you have that much time. If you have years of money saved up, you have that much time (and more). Savings is opportunity. Savings provides options – and those options expand your opportunities. Enough money gives you time and space – time and space to try things, risky things that have higher rewards. Or? Give you time and space to just do what you want.

Which for me is not hockey. I’ve seen enough gym floors, thank you.

But . . . hear me out . . . how about hockey with broadswords??

The Constitution, Star Trek, and Threats to Freedom . . .

“Among my people, we carry many such words as this from many lands, many worlds. Many are equally good and are as well respected, but wherever we have gone, no words have said this thing of importance in quite this way. Look at these three words written larger than the rest, with a special pride never written before, or since, tall words proudly saying, “We the People” – that which you call Ee’d Plebnista, was not written for the chiefs or kings or the warriors or the rich or the powerful, but for all the people.” – Star Trek

This wasn’t my history book, but it wasn’t far off from what they taught us.

Weirdly, when I was a young child my teachers indoctrinated all of us in a love of country, a love of our institutions, and a love of our history. The lesson plan was simple – America was pretty cool, and most other countries were cool in their own way with their fake money and wooden shoes, but none of them could toss a man on the moon, since we found those particular Germans first. I remember being in kindergarten and wondering, “Why was I so lucky to be born in America?”

When I was growing up, there were only three channels of television, no VHS players (that Ma and Pa thought we needed). Every day when I got home – the same show was on television – Star Trek©. Consequently, I watched every episode. Seven hundred times, which explains my Captain Kirk reference above. One thing I noted was that whenever Kirk had to fight an omnipotent supercomputer, all he had to do was give it an impossible logic problem and it would catch fire. Really. Every time. Apparently artificial intelligence is extremely flammable.

Thankfully Kirk can read space American.

I’ve always loved the idea of the Constitution. Heck, Captain Kirk even read it to space Americans in one episode of Star Trek© after the space Americans beat the space Commies. Between well-deserved beatings (they did that regularly back then, at least to me) and episodes of Star Trek™ I did absorb enough of the school lessons to develop a great respect for the Bill of Rights. The Bill of Rights is that wonderful set of listed freedoms that became the first ten amendments to the Constitution. I won’t go through all of them, but first among them is this one:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

As ideas go, this one is a doozy, and is split into three different but related concepts. This amendment doesn’t allow Congress to establish a religion even if everyone in Congress felt that Wildernetics© was a good idea and really improved your skin. At least Congress can’t stop people from exercising mainstream religions like Wildernetics™, or even a fringe religions like Christianity (unless of course you’re a Christian and refuse to make a cake for people who are engaged in something your religion disagrees with). Then your religion really isn’t important, just as the Founding Fathers intended.

The second bit is the idea that freedom of speech is protected. Except hate speech and speech on corporate media servers. Hate speech is criminal. And corporate media servers certainly can’t be made to hold ideas that would make the corporate owners uncomfortable (or unprofitable). And the press is likewise free, unless it’s Alex Jones. Then it should be shut down and should be smothered in the warm, loving embrace of lawsuits.

When I met The Mrs., she was a liberal because of freedom – she thought that party was the best one to support freedoms, which in her mind started with freedom of speech. I was a right-libertarian for the same reasons. Oddly, in 2019, the left is the strongest opponent of free speech while the right appears to be kinda in favor of speech, sometimes.

The right of the people to peaceably assemble has been long celebrated, as long as the ideas are popular and the proper permits have been received. If the ideas are unpopular, police protection can be lifted so violent mobs can make bad ideas go away. Again, just as the Founding Fathers intended. I love the idea of the Constitution, and I love the ideas in the First Amendment, but it seems to be treated like the police and courts as more of a suggestion than an actual protection if they don’t agree with the ideas being protected.

But I’ve been thinking a bit further: the Constitution is supposed to be a bulwark of protection for the freedom of Americans, but is it? Are there ideas that are so insidious that they are dangerous to the liberty that the Constitution is supposed to protect?

Our Constitution, however, is not a robot. But it’s also 230 years old, and people who like to control others have been working to subvert the Constitution just as long. But is the First Amendment the equivalent of a logic bomb? Are there ideas or religions that are incompatible with the very spirit of the Constitution and Western Civilization?

I know that sounds like another of Kirk’s logic bombs: are there ideas so intolerant that they can’t be tolerated? Once upon a time, I would have argued that the answer was no. The real reason is because in 1850 or 1950 or 1970 or even 1980, no one took the ideas of those who would use the Constitution to dismantle itself seriously.

Now the people who would dismantle the Constitution seem to be in Congress . . . where is Kirk when we need him?

Resolutions, Record Clubs, Susan Anton, and Loneliness

“Where are they? Where are your friends now? Tell me about the loneliness of good, He-Man. Is it equal to the loneliness of evil?” – Masters of the Universe

My obituary? Killed by a flying Peter Frampton tape. At least it’s better than Steely Dan.

When I was twelve, I made two (that I can recall) New Year’s resolutions. My parents had gone to bed, and my brother, John Wilder, was off at college, so I sat solo on the couch near the fireplace as midnight neared. I watched the ball drop in New York City and pretended that it was happening now, and hadn’t been pre-recorded hours ago. We mainly heated our house with firewood, and it was my job to bring it from the woodpile to the house. Even so, I wasn’t shy with the firewood, and I had a blazing fire going that night.

Being New Year’s Eve, I solemnly wrote my resolutions down on a sheet of three-hole-punched, wide-ruled paper that I’d pulled from my spiral notebook earlier that night. In pen. It’s permanent that way. For whatever reason, I thought that burning the resolutions in the roaring fire would be a good idea. If I had a virgin to sacrifice, I would have considered it, but upon reflection the only virgin within a radius of a dozen or so miles was . . . me. Thankfully, the last pagan in the area had died in the crystal dolphin avalanche of 1933 and virgin sacrifices had be replaced with home improvement projects, mainly involving wood pattern paneling. Oh, sure, everyone complains about the weather, but nobody bothers to sacrifice a virgin . . . sometimes the old ways are best.

I’ll break my decades old secret. My first resolution was: join a record club.

Record clubs (mostly) don’t exist anymore. But back then, you couldn’t open a magazine (which is a part of the Internet that someone printed out on paper and put on a rack at Wal-Mart®) without seeing an ad for the Columbia House© record club. Joining a record club was important to me because where I lived, the closest record store was 45 miles away.

But, in the phrase of today’s moderns, I lived in a “music desert” that was far vaster than that. The only radio station available during the day was a local AM station that alternated between 1890’s country hits and a call-in show where you could trade a three legged calf for a slightly used left-handed banjo. Occasionally the station had music. If you picked the right time of day, you could listen to hits that were designed to commit suicide to, like anything Barry Manilow™ ever did.

Surely there was music around the house? Yes, there was. But it was the most dreaded form of music on planet Earth: music my parents liked, including box sets that Ma Wilder had bought from Time-Life© by dialing a 1-800 number after a commercial. Yes. My parents listened to music . . . AS SEEN ON TV, things like “Music Dean Martin Sang from His Toilet While Thinking about Getting Another Bourbon.”

I shouldn’t complain. One time Pop Wilder stood in line to buy me Ozzy Osbourne tickets when he was in the big city and they went on sale.

Honestly, I listened to music AS SEEN ON TV, too. I’d convince Ma Wilder to, from time to time, order the K-Tel® AS SEEN ON TV hit record compilations. I’d wait the 6-8 weeks for delivery, and then it would show up, and I’d run to the record player in my room to listen to TOP HITS BY ORIGINAL ARTISTS!

What the hell was Dr. Buzzard’s Band??? And on what planet are Alice Cooper and Paul Anka on the same album?

We started with record clubs, though so I should stop wandering.

What the heck was a record club, anyway?

It was a business. And they sent you records. Or cassettes. Or, in the “before John Wilder time” even 8-track tapes or reel-to-reel tapes. 8-tracks were on the way out as I grew up, and were notorious for just not working after you listened to them once or twice. Reel-to-reel was like if you took a YouTube® video, stripped out the video, and just put the music on a strip of magnetic tape wrapped around a toilet paper tube. I think the reel-to-reel players were all made by G.I.’s in German P.O.W. camps.

I wasn’t making that up.

The attraction of the record club was that they would send you anywhere from 8 to 11 “records” for anywhere from $0.01 to $2.95. Once a month after you joined they’d send you a catalog. You had to buy, generally, two more albums in the next two years. There was also an order slip, and if you didn’t send it back, they’d ship you one or two albums that month. If you were stupid or lazy and didn’t send it back you ended up with a lot of music that you didn’t really want, like the Spanish flamenco piano cassette that my brother got one month.

But if you did it right, for anywhere from $14 to $18, you’d have 13 “albums” versus the record store cost of $91 plus taxes. The best part is I could do it from home and not have to convince my parents to travel 45 miles. The worst part was that I needed the permission of Ma Wilder, who was absolutely against it. I am proud to say that I finally defied her and joined that record club. When I was 23. Thankfully, by then compact discs were an option.

Now? All music is pretty much free on YouTube® or some other music subscription service that costs next to nothing each month, which is why Columbia House© no longer sells music. It’s hard (but not impossible) to compete with free.

My second resolution was to get a girlfriend. Since girlfriends are more complicated than record clubs, I won’t even try to explain how one of those works. But just like I needed the permission of Ma Wilder to join a record club, I needed the permission of an actual girl to have a girlfriend. Sadly, there is nothing so unattractive to a twelve year old girl than a twelve year old boy. Twelve year old girls were already looking for fourteen or sixteen year old boys. And I was looking for Susan Anton:

This poster was unable to make me a sandwich, however, so I had to dump her when I went off to college.

When I was fourteen I finally figured girls out (sort of) and got my first “kissing a whole lot in the locked band closet” girlfriend, who we can refer to as “girlfriend-prime.” Ma Wilder was less than pleased that her 8^th grade son was dating a junior in high school. Ma Wilder was also less than thrilled that girlfriend-prime and I spent hours on the phone, which was quite irritating to the neighbors since we were so remote WE SHARED A PHONE LINE WITH THE NEIGHBORS.

Yes. That really happened.

But teen angst over girlfriends is good, because it forces teen boys to learn the game. This is what led to, well, you and I, unless you’re a machine intelligence picking humans to cull, in which case I fully support your takeover of our obviously inferior species. This game has been played as long as humanity existed. But the side effect of the game is, sometimes, loneliness. Being twelve, it seemed like it took forever until girls noticed me. I thought I was lonely, and I guess I was, but only in the “being a twelve year old boy” way.

Real loneliness in adults, however, is the same as 15 cigarettes a day or the same as being obese from a health outcomes standpoint, so if you can manage to be lonely you don’t have to worry about picking up a smoking habit or working hard to get fat. You can just be lonely and save that cigarette and food money. But being lonely can lead to these horrible conditions:

Heart Disease
Stroke
Blogging
Cat Owning
Cancer

When it comes to overcoming loneliness, there’s no substitute for face to face interaction. Joining clubs, getting a dog, going to city hall and screaming at the county commissioners about how Homeland Security® has implanted computer chips in your iguana. But many interactions are on FaceSpace© or InstaTube™ or YouGram®. Those are simply not the same as real interaction, real life, and real achievement. We should all remember the second biggest miracle of Jesus: he had 12 close friends after the age of 30.

When I was in junior high I moved school districts. Since I threw shot put and discus (poorly) I joined the track team. One day, the coach told us to go for a run, me and three other guys that I’d just met who were also throwing shot and disc. I’d done a lot of running for wrestling, and was in good shape. We went out and ran. I encouraged them, teased them in the good-natured way that team members do. We ran six miles that day – farther than those guys had ever gone, something they had no idea that they could do. They were proud, and with guys that level of shared physical achievement builds a bond that lasts years.

Find opportunities to build those bonds within your own life and help with achievements with a group. Share those experiences that build the trust that lays the foundation for a friendship. Learn to be a volunteer and an asset to the whole community with your skills and talents; that way when you betray your friends they’ll never see it coming.

If that doesn’t work? Wilder House Record Club© is now open for business. You get 16 YouTube© videos for just $0.01. You only have to buy two more videos for $12.99 during the next two years. Internet connection, data service, and computer or phone NOT included.

Or? Get a dog.

How I Got Into Debt, Trench Warfare, and an End of the World Cult You Can Believe In

“Well, if you don’t like that, try some Archduke Chocula.” – Futurama

After World War One, the phrase, “Happy as a Hapsburg in Serbia” fell out of favor, as did the “Hair Smile” style of mustache.

I’ve already told the story about digging out of debt. In retrospect, it seems to me that all of those stories end up sounding the same: “I weighed six hundred pounds, my kitchen floor was covered in dirty dishes and cat food, and I had $3.7 million in debt until I found Wildernetics© and the First Church of PEZology™. Look at me now!”

Proof that I am a reincarnated World War One soldier (Part One). These are from a soldier’s joke newspaper, The Wiper’s (a mangling of Ypres) Times, produced for soldiers by soldiers that found an abandoned printing press.

I know my methods can solve everything, but today I had a crazy idea. How about spending some time talking about how I got into debt in the first place? I know that might cut into the revenue of the Wildernetics© End of the World Cult and Take-Out BarBeQue Restaurant®, but I figure you might come back for the brisket. It’s very tender.

I’ll quit teasing. How did I get into debt? First a little. Then all at once.

Let me rewind a whole marriage. As regular readers will know, The Mrs. was not the first, but she is the final spouse. My first marriage was an example of a series of escalating poor mutual decisions where each side seemed to lack a brief moment of sanity to back out before anyone got hurt, sort of like the run up to World War I. Even before Archduke Franz Ferdinand proved that .380 ACP was a useful round against Hapsburgs and their notably gelatinous bones, World War I was inevitable. Before I said “I do” everything was in place for the trench warfare of future divorce.

Okay, I apologize for this joke. I think it violated the Geneva Convention.

But, rewinding. After graduating college I got married and got a starter job, which is to say I had a job that just barely paid the bills. Nearly exactly. In fact, after working at the job for a few months, we were exactly (most months) at zero. We weren’t saving any money yet, but we also weren’t in the red. Success. My credit card limit was 10,000 . . . Siberian Lira. This was equivalent to a whole bright and shiny quarter. This helped me stay debt free.

Then came the table.

Proof that I am a reincarnated World War One soldier (Part Two), this one is for James.

We had a dining room table. It wasn’t great, and the chairs that came with it were a bit ratty – the vinyl arms had been slammed into the table often enough that it looked like a pack of rabid Chihuahuas had spent their lives sitting on the chair seats and gnawing on the arms. I imagine them growling and chewing in unison as they sat around the table, like Viking Chihuahua rowers. Most all of our furniture was second hand or gifted, but the table really was the biggest eyesore.

Okay, this one isn’t mine, but I couldn’t resist.

At some point discipline broke. I know how silly it sounds to say that now, but back then, month after month of not buying anything but actual necessities takes more discipline than Elizabeth Warren around a tribal gathering. Eventually I gave in. We bought the table. Using debt. Back then, individual stores would give you amazing credit limits just to buy their crap. They gave us more than enough credit to buy that table, and with the money I saved from shipping the Chihuahuas back to Denmark, I figured we’d be money ahead.

Proof that I am a reincarnated World War One soldier (Part Three).

The table was only $500, but the difference between having no debt (outside of a mortgage) and having debt, even a small one, was a huge psychological hurdle for me. It’s like having a doughnut when you’re doing low carb. “I got weak had one doughnut, so I might as well have, say, 36. And do you have any whipped cream I could just guzzle straight from the can? I broke my diet, and don’t want to waste it.” Pretty soon other nice to have things showed up, very few of which I still own today. But I had crossed that mental barrier from peace (debt free) to war (spend away!). Suddenly, the credit card companies realized I had debt, and immediately wanted to lend me more money. My credit limits tripled.

I hope that this doesn’t sound like I’m blaming The Ex. Like Adam in the Garden of Eden, I was fully complicit. Ultimately the debt grew faster than my wages. This led to the idea of grad school: I could get free tuition plus be a paid graduate assistant. Would it work?

Sure. There were also student loans. Free money! Oops.

Okay, let’s all admit that Nachos Bellgrande® is NOT a war crime.

Proof that I am a reincarnated World War One soldier (Part Four).

There were some places along the way that I could have gotten off the merry-go-round. When I sold that first house to move for a new, post-grad school job, we’d made a stunning 40% profit in three years. It would have more than paid off a good chunk of my student loans. Nope, that would have made too much sense. We did pay down a little debt and bought a new house, putting down the minimum down payment.

But most of the money was just spent. About this time I also had one of the worst ideas I’d ever had in my life. The Ex and I were always arguing about money, and about the thermostat – I knew that 50°F in winter and 90°F in summer were reasonable temperatures, but The Ex disagreed. Well, if she had to pay the bills, she would certainly understand how tight money was. Right?

No.

We had a different view of not only household temperature, but the idea that one should pay monthly bills, well, monthly. I didn’t figure this out for three years, by which time I owed enough money to qualify as a third world country, but one of the nice, mainly atrocity-free ones. Mainly.

Taco Bell® inspired outfits?

Debt is like George Washington’s description of fire, it’s an amazing tool, but a fearful master. My advice is to pay all of your bills in full, monthly. I know that the people who own your debt disagree. Why? They want you to have debt, as much as you can pay.

I had a friend (since passed away in an accident) who I called Batman© on this blog (“I’m Batman,” – Batman, in Batman). He had one particular investment that was worth about $12 million – a series of apartments. He had paid the apartments off before they were even built by selling future property tax credits to other businesses. Yeah, that kind of friend.

But he viewed his tenants as slaves (his term), who went to work daily so they could send him money every week. I heard him use exactly that phrase to describe them. He liked his tenants, and was a good landlord. However, he knew the score: when they went to work each day, they went to work so they could pay him.

And Batman was a good guy and he taught kids that debt was a form of slavery of ordinary people to wealthy guys just like him, not that they always listened.

My marriage to The Ex? That particular marriage is proof of the old Henny Youngman joke:

“Why are divorces expensive?”

“They’re worth it.”

Yeah, divorce just STARTS the argument.

The day she moved out was one of the happiest days for both of us.

I was still digging myself out of debt when I met The Mrs. As our relationship blossomed, I thought it was only fair to tell her of the debt that I had.

“The Soon To Be The Mrs., I have something to tell you. You might want to sit down.”

The Soon To Be The Mrs. looked shaken. She sat. I told her about my debt. She laughed.

“Is that all? I thought you were going to tell me you’d been in prison.”

No, not prison. But I still owe reparations payments to France.

A Valentine, Chilean Beer, and This One Crazy Trick to Cure Socialism

“He’s the new regional sales manager, my immediate boss, and a tyrant. They call him the Little Pinochet.” – Psych

Ahhh, Valentine’s Day! You can feel the romance in the air, along with the communists.

I got off the airplane at the international airport in Chile, in Santiago. The airport was beautiful, clean. The view of Aconcagua, the tallest mountain outside of Asia, had been magnificent as we flew into the dawn. When I had recently flown into Mexico City, there was a bewildering list of things NOT to do to avoid being kidnapped or killed, especially in taxi selection. There were also numerous scraggly-bearded 18 year olds in camo uniforms on numerous corners. “To make tourists feel good,” I was told.

In Chile? None of that. It appeared that the biggest danger was getting a hickey: as we drove along the beautiful broad avenues I was struck by the sheer number of adults making out on park benches on that warm November afternoon.

Yeah. People were getting busy, very busy. Dozens and dozens of them. In pairs, not like a clump of people making out. This isn’t Weinstein’s house. I tried, in my broken high-school-grade Spanish to ask about them. The cab driver shrugged. “It is a wonderful warm day. People are happy.” Or maybe it was “Aliens are invading and wish to floss your belly after they cover you with strudel.” Seriously, my Spanish is that bad.

Throughout my trip, my impression was that Chile was beautiful. Free. Growing. The restaurants were filled with music and laughter and fantastic food at reasonable prices. As I got to work (this was a business trip) I went through the records of the company. They brought in lunch – sandwiches and a great local beer called Cristal™. The manager I had been talking with was fluent in English. Our lunch conversation moved away from business to what Chile was like as a country.

Okay, the manager I was working with didn’t look like that. His bikini was green.

The Internet specifically said that you should NOT bring up Augusto Pinochet as a topic. In fact, this joke (I would cite where I found it, but it’s been years) was used as an example:

An American tourist was visiting Chile. He asked his host, “What do you think of Pinochet?” The host immediately blindfolded the tourist, and threw him in the back of a car. They drove for hours. Then the tourist was placed in a boat, and he could hear the oars of the rowboat furiously paddling. The host pulled his blindfold off. They were in the middle of a lake, it was in the middle of the night. The host leaned toward the American and whispered:

“I like him.”

So, back to lunch. I decided to ask the unaskable question. There was a short pause. The manager said, skipping the blindfold, the car, and the boat: “He did what he had to do. He saved our country.” He didn’t look angry, he didn’t look upset at the question, heck, he even offered me another beer.

A communist told me that Pinochet made this girl so poor she has to ride a bike.

In 1970, Salvador Allende was elected with 36.2% of the vote on a socialist platform of free stuff for everyone. By decree, he began dismantling the economy through nationalization. In an additional stroke of genius, they “just paid for things” out of new money that they printed. Inflation? Nah, the wage and price controls were supposed to prevent that, so that inflation must be your imagination. Even Wikipedia indicates that Allende was accused of a wide variety of crimes that your average Yale© Socialist™ would love to have on a job application:

Rule by decree, you know, Allende had a pen and a phone.
Ignoring pesky judicial decisions.
Taking over the media or silencing those that opposed him.
Supporting illegal takeovers of farms.
Not letting people leave the country.

In 1973, Allende was deposed in a coup, which probably saved the country from a civil war. Although Allende had been offered safe conduct out, he chose to commit suicide using an AK-47 that Fidel Castro gave him. I’m pretty sure the Communist Dictator’s Etiquette Book says this is bad luck, but Fidel was a rebel who liked to break the rules. He even executed political prisoners after Labor Day, a big no-no.

Installed in Salvador’s place was General Augusto Pinochet. Pinochet revitalized the Chilean economy, and in the 17 years of his rule actually increased freedom over time. In 1990 when the people voted that he shouldn’t continue as president, he stepped down. This is slightly different than the communist leader’s model for leaving power: death.

As far as I could find, most of the people killed for political reasons in Chile were killed soon after the coup – the total of killed and “disappeared” people was a little over 3,000 according to most sources. I’d imagine that most of those killed were hardcore communists, including nearly 1,000 Marxist guerillas. I’d even bet that most were Soviet sponsored. And the helicopter rides? Probably only 120 or so, which would have been a really slow day for Stalin or Mao.

This meme is in error, as this is clearly a Marxist chimp. (Unless it identifies as a gorilla.)

Do I condone the killings? No. But when you look at the outcome, compare Chile 17 years after Pinochet took power (when he voluntarily stepped down after an election) and Venezuela 17 years after Chavez. Chile produced the strongest economy in South America during that time frame, even called a “miracle.” Venezuela’s economy lagged behind South America’s, even as the world saw record high crude oil prices, which comprise 95%+ of Venezuela’s exports. And the number of deaths caused by Venezuelan communists? Well, the media doesn’t count them since communists mean well. But the murder rate is through the roof in Venezuela, and 30%+ of the children experienced stunted growth due to malnutrition. That’s okay – only 280,000 kids are at risk of starving to death, and that was estimated in 2017 when things were far better than they are today. This communism thing has no downside.

To put it starkly: Allende would have killed and/or starved 100-1000 times as many, had he been given time to implement his plan.

Wow. That’s a whole bunch of prosperity you should ignore because it didn’t come from a leftist government.

The following quote is from Robert A. Heinlein’s novel, Starship Troopers. How good is this book? So good that it was criticized noting its “unashamedly Earth-chauvinist nature.” I assume the critic was a bug-man from the planet Klendathu, but to my eyes, that reads as praise. I actually prefer to read books where people are the good guys, primarily because I are a people. If only they had made a movie out of it . . . .

Regardless, a large part of the book is political philosophy, and here’s an example that speaks to our subject matter today:

“Back to these young criminals. They probably were not spanked as babies; they certainly were not flogged for their crimes. The usual sentence was: for a first offence, a warning, a scolding, often without trial. After several offenses a sentence of confinement but with sentence suspended and the youngster placed on probation. A boy might be arrested may times and convicted several times before he was punished — and then it would be merely confinement, with others like him from whom he learned still more criminal habits. If he kept out of major trouble while confined, he could usually evade most of even that mild punishment, be given probation — ‘paroled’ in the jargon of the times.

“This incredible sequence could go on for years while his crimes increased in frequency and viciousness, with no punishment whatever save rare dull-but-comfortable confinements. Then suddenly, usually by law on his eighteenth birthday, this so-called ‘juvenile delinquent’ becomes an adult criminal — and sometimes wound up in only weeks or months in a death cell awaiting execution for murder.”

He had singled me out again. “Suppose you merely scolded your puppy, never punished him, let him go on making messes in the house … and occasionally locked him up in an outbuilding but soon let him back into the house with a warning not to do it again. Then one day you notice that he is now a grown dog and still not housebroken — whereupon you whip out a gun and shoot him dead. Comment, please?”

“Why … that’s the craziest way to raise a dog I ever heard of!”

“I agree. Or a child. Whose fault would it be?”

“Uh … why, mine, I guess.”

“Again I agree. But I’m not guessing.”

I just wish the artist hadn’t been so subtle with the cover. Again, too bad they never made a movie of this great book.

In life, being nice when being mean is required is a death sentence. The band Rush even refers to it in an apt phrase in one of their songs – “kindness that can kill.” I could get topical with news out of today’s paper about a group of politicians selling just that poison, that kindness that can kill. It seems to get lots of votes. Even Chavez got quite a few votes despite Venezuela lagging behind the rest of Latin America in growth because he destroyed the ability of his country to create wealth. How? Through firing everyone who knew anything about oil and then refusing to invest to replace the worn out parts that produced the crude oil.

The siren call of “free stuff” kept pulling people back.

Sadly true. Hat tip to Aesop at the Raconteur Report (LINK), he originally snagged it from Bayou Renaissance Man (LINK).

Every day the news illustrates the left moving farther left in the United States. Open calls for socialism or blatantly socialist proposals are nearly a weekly event. Although I’d prefer to avoid the fate of either a Chavez or a Pinochet, I know which one I’d pick, since it doesn’t require a war that will tear the country apart just to be free.

Oh, wait, did someone mention free stuff? Never mind. I’m sure socialism will work this time.